


A Good Match

by MikeWritesThings



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Motorcycles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23179582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikeWritesThings/pseuds/MikeWritesThings
Summary: Makoa and Octavio go on a ride and talk about family stuff.
Relationships: Makoa Gibraltar/Octane | Octavio Silva
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	A Good Match

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS TECHNICALLY A C*MMISSION IM SORRY FOR CUTTING IT SHORT CHRIS KING MY COMPUTER KEEPS CRASHING AND AS I WAS WRITING THIS I GOT AN ACTUAL C*MMISSION SO I HURRIED IT UP TO START WORKING ON IT IM SOWWYYYYYY PLEASE ENJOY

Octavio was a pretty guy, once you saw past all the impatience and attitude. Hazel eyes, more green than brown, freckles and scars dotting his face, an almost concerning amount of piercings. Makoa had only ever had his ears pierced, but there were at least five on Octavio’s face, his favorite being the ones just below his mouth that he said were called snake bites.

He wanted to get more, and that was what they were currently doing—sitting atop Makoa’s bike, helmets on, about to head out to a tattoo parlor that did piercings as well. 

“Don’t they hurt with the helmet on?” Makoa asked. It wasn’t the first time he had asked, but it was always good to check, watching his boyfriend adjust it without much care.

“Nah,” Octavio said, and Makoa couldn’t see his mouth, but with the way his eyes were scrunching up, he was clearly smiling beneath the helmet. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

Makoa would be driving the bike, which he preferred to Octavio driving. Not that he didn’t think it was extremely hot when his boyfriend drove, but he wanted to make it to the parlor all in one piece, and Octavio often accelerated without warning and took way too many sharp turns to be considered a safe driver.

(“I’ve got this,” Octavio had said on their second-ever date.

Precisely thirteen minutes later, they were both lying in a ditch. One of Octavio’s legs was lying mangled on the road. The man himself was upside-down, leaned up against Makoa’s form on the ground.

“I don’t got this,” Octavio said around a nosebleed.)

The ride to the parlor was dangerous, not because of any roadside attractions or accidents, but because Octavio was practically feeling him up all the way there. His boyfriend’s arms were wrapped securely around his waist at first, but then he slid one hand up, over Makoa’s stomach and onto his muscled chest.

“Do you want to get into a wreck?” Makoa asked good-naturedly.

“Dying while touching your tiddies wouldn’t be so bad,” came Octavio’s muffled response.

“Please never call them that again.”

“Lo siento, amor.”

Octavio returned his hands back to their initial position, only to feel him up again when they came to a stoplight. It honestly tickled more than anything else, but Makoa made a mental note to return the favor later tonight in bed.

“Your dad got you this bike, right?” Octavio asked curiously when they sped up again.

“Yep!” Makoa answered, smiling at the memory. It had been about a year ago, when he’d announced he would be going off to compete in the Apex games. His father had gifted him the bike, joking that maybe he would stop stealing his own, and he loved the thing. Painted it on his own, kept up with it, repaired every little tear. “My going-away gift, as they would say.”

“Huh,” Octavio said, and then went quiet.

By the time they parked in front of the parlor, they had a good fifteen minutes to spare. Makoa was going to suggest the two get something to drink, maybe a smoothie to share, when Octavio pressed up against him, forcing him to lean against his bike.

“Sooo,” Octavio said, sliding his hands onto Makoa’s waist. He had to crane his neck a little to look down at the much smaller man, and his lips quirked up at the corners when he met the other’s eyes. Clearly he was in a flirty mood today. “When are you gonna take me to meet your parents?”

Huh. That was a bit unexpected.

“Honestly? I haven’t figured that out yet,” Makoa responded honestly, and smiled when Octavio’s expression fell for a moment, clearly not having expected that response. His boyfriend had apparently thought he would have an answer, because he scrambled to regain his composure and asked, “Uh, why?”

“Tryin’ not to give my old man a heart attack. I’m wild enough as is—I don’t think he’d handle it well knowing my new boyfriend’s even more of a daredevil than I am.” 

Well, his father would think he could handle it, but nothing could prepare  _ anyone _ for the whirlwind that was Octavio Silva.

Octavio smiled a little, but he kept pressing, voice impatient. “Yeah, but—but I  _ am _ going to meet them, right? Don’t you want me to meet your parents?”

Makoa could have laughed at the way he was reacting;  _ huh. So he’s worried. _

“Chill, brotha. You’ll meet!” He brought his hands up to his boyfriend’s waist, straightening up so he was no longer putting the bike in danger of falling to the ground. “I’m serious about ya. I promise.”

Octavio stepped out of his grip, adjusting his jacket and pointedly looking elsewhere. Makoa crossed his arms, still smiling, and watched him fidget where he stood, awaiting a response.

“Nice. I mean, it was fine if I didn’t meet them anyway,” his boyfriend said, trying to play it cool. 

“Sure,” Makoa said.

“I mean it! Meet-the-parents shit is boring, anyways.”

God, he was cute when he was trying to act like he Didn’t Care.

"Well, what about your family?" Makoa asked a little curiously, but still teasing. Octavio's expression soured a little, but quickly returned to normal, as if nothing had happened.

"My dad doesn't care. I mean, he wouldn't want to meet you. I mean—he doesn't know you exist."

"Huh. That's okay."

It really was. Makoa understood; he had several friends, several colleagues, throughout his life that didn't have anything or anyone to fall back on or consider family. He wouldn't press Octavio on the issue, not until he was ready, anyways. Octavio seemed to appreciate that, flashing Makoa one of his grins before changing the subject completely.

“Also, you can’t call me ‘brotha’ if we’re dating. You call everyone that! I want my own nickname.”

Makoa extended his hand to the other, and Octavio took it, which was nice. He liked holding his hand, especially because it was much smaller than his own. Octavio’s body was often cold, his fingers freezing, so it was easier to warm his hands between Makoa’s since they were way smaller, and it gave him an excuse to hold them often.

“Alright. How’s ‘mi corazón’?” He asked, using the first Spanish endearment that came to mind. He probably butchered the accent, but hey, he was trying!

“Your pronunciation is awful!” Octavio responded brightly, having recovered from his little moment. “I love it!” 

“I’ll work on it, then,” Makoa said, and let his boyfriend drag him into the parlor, letting himself be pulled around like a ragdoll despite the size difference between the two of them. Maybe it was about time he took Octavio to meet his family. His brothers and sisters would probably make fun of him, as they did every time he got a new boyfriend, but he was pretty serious about Octavio, and eventually the teasing would die down.

Despite what he said earlier, his dad would probably love Octavio. The two of them worked well together, even if it didn’t seem like it at first. 

Watching Octavio point out all the different earrings he wanted to buy, he smiled, and stepped forward when he beckoned for him.

“Let’s match, like gross couples do,” Octavio said, gesturing to a set of silver studs on display.

“Okay, alright.”

Yeah. They were a good match.


End file.
